“Perhaps this was important enough for him that he took more precautions,” Namra tried again.
“Perhaps,” I replied. “Except this room was as much caution as he was willing to take. I’m assuming you needed my blood to open the door, you bastards.” I waved my bandaged arm at her.
She gave an apologetic smile before wandering over to the desk.
“I already checked there,” I said. “Maybe you’re wrong. Why would he leave anything? My father isn’t the sort of man to explain himself to anyone, let alone me. We’ve already proven that.” I paused, glancing at the painting in my hand. A thought occurred to me. The painting was too crude, the sort of thing my father would’ve never paid money for. The artist’s signature was scribbled in the bottom—it was my brother Senjo’s name.
I peeled the bamboo from the back panel and pulled out a tattered piece of canvas. There were words on the other side. Crumpled, I couldn’t see all of it immediately, and I held off for a few moments, wondering if I should even open it. Whatever words he had left for me… he could keep them. I didn’t want to indulge the old man’s whims anymore.
Yet I remained staring, my fingers pressed into the soft cloth with a foolish sort of reverence, and something else—the need for an explanation from a father that I always believed loved me in his own way, a longing forever damned because of what he was. Why look for love from a murderer? I unfolded the canvas.
Go to the Yu-yan dragon-tower. —Papa
I could hear his voice in my head, that forced gentleness, always mixed with the edge of the temper that lay beneath. Tears stung my eyes. Hot tears, tears of anger and bitterness and maybe a touch of hate. I didn’t know if it was my father’s handwriting or the abruptness of the message that did it. It could’ve been addressed to anyone else for all I knew, except for that last part, that old affectation, what I used to call him when I was much younger and my whole world revolved around him. To use it knowing full well what he was truly asking from me… felt like the greatest betrayal of all. It wasn’t just the world that thought of me as Yeshin’s bitch pup. My father believed it, too.
I handed the letter to Namra and opened the door. I stepped into the shadows, feeling blood stick to the bottom of my boots. Anya’s and Noerro’s bodies were growing cold in the corner.
“Liosa,” I started. “Where is she?”
“I—”
We heard screams in the distance.
I stepped away from the choking hold of that attic, and ran.
The sound of fighting exploded with the dawn. I exited through the kitchens, into a grove of bamboo where a path led straight to the servants’ building. A narrow trail wound itself around the other end of the hill. I found myself at the shore of the lake, just in time to see Ozo faced with Peneira. She had my father’s sword in one hand and her daughter’s arm in the other.
Ozo’s face was bleeding. “Your granddaughter comes to greet you,” he said with an exaggerated bow. “I don’t think you deserve the honour.”
“This abomination is no granddaughter of mine,” Peneira seethed. She turned to me. “The spell didn’t work. Did you tell your mage to interfere?”
“She didn’t,” Namra said. “She wanted it to, Sang Peneira.”
“You think I’d believe those lies?” Peneira laughed. “She’s a hateful one, just like her father.”
“I don’t really care what you believe,” I broke in. “But let Liosa go and you’re free to walk out of here.”
She stared at me in disbelief.
I stepped closer. “They say you married Yeshin for his name and his money. I wasn’t there—I can’t make that judgment. Perhaps your daughter did the same thing. Who can say for sure? Maybe you both loved him and the promise of the comfort he would bring to your lives.” I took a deep breath. “What I do know is that it’s over. You’ve made your choices and suffered for them. It’s enough.”
“Talyien—” Ozo began.
“It’s enough,” I repeated.
Ozo didn’t look amused. “She’s a snake. Let her slither off and she’ll find a way to bite your ankle.”
“He’s right,” Peneira hissed. “We can come back. Find better mages.” She twisted Liosa’s arm, pulling her further from us. Liosa whimpered.
“Your great-nephews are dead,” Ozo pointed out. “Admit it, Peneira. You’re old. You’ll wither away before you can raise another army worthy of a challenge.”
“It won’t work, in any case,” Namra added. “You need the queen for the spell, and she’s blocked.”
“Blocked,” Peneira repeated in confusion.
“Something interferes with any spell cast on her,” Namra said. “Possibly a result of the accident in the first place—I can’t say for sure.”
Her face tightened. “But—the ritual—it must have worked just a little.” Namra drew back, and the panic on Peneira’s face was suddenly palpable. “Tell me you know what went wrong. Tell me this was all worth something!”
“All I know is that it is impossible to re-create what happened in that room. I’m sorry. Liosa… cannot be healed. She will be like this until the day she dies.”
Peneira uttered a gut-wrenching scream and lifted the sword. I was the closest to her and for a moment I thought she was going to attack me. Instead, she turned towards her daughter.
I rushed forward before she could bring the blade down on Liosa’s shoulder. We both toppled to the ground, and I heard the creak of what sounded like bones breaking. I pushed myself off the old woman immediately. She lay curled in a ball, tears on her wrinkled face, still grasping my father’s sword in her white knuckles. “Grandmother…” I began.
She didn’t look at me. Didn’t acknowledge the word. Still couldn’t. To her, it sounded as empty as it made me feel. But she got up slowly and, with a precision that took me off guard, sliced her own throat with the sword. Her eyes never left the blade as it tumbled from her fingers.
I turned away. Liosa started crawling towards her mother’s body with a low moan. I bent down to hold her before she could reach it. “It’s all right now.” I wrapped her in a tight embrace. “It’s all right. She’s just sleeping.” I closed my own eyes, feeling tears creep into the corners.
I don’t know if she understood anything, but the sound of my voice must’ve been soothing. She slowly relaxed. I could hear her heartbeat hammering away like a butterfly’s wings, the first sound that must’ve welcomed me when I came into existence. “It’s all right, my dear,” I whispered. “You’re safe. I won’t let anything harm you.” I stroked her hair as gently as I could, a mother to my own. Even if she could never love me, I could still care.
Off in the distance, Ozo undid his cloak and covered the old woman’s body with a prayer on his lips. He returned to me, subdued. “I left the thinking to your father,” he finally said, watching me with Liosa in my arms. “I got this far because I was at my happiest following orders. Tell me what city to conquer, whose head to lop off, and I’ll do it. You accuse me of wanting the throne for myself. Why would I? Damn thing never brought you anything but trouble. Some people are born to follow; others were born to lead. Your father was… not ideal, but then who the hell cared enough to do something about all of this? He didn’t have to. He could’ve taken the easier road.”
He wiped the sweat off his face with the back of his hand. “What do I have to do to make you listen?” he continued. “Do you want me to go down to my knees? Beg you to save this land? You’re the damn queen. Say the word and I’ll do it.”
“If you love it so much, you could save it yourself,” I snapped.
“I would if I could. I’ve served Jin-Sayeng my whole life. I’ve killed for her, bled for her, gave her my only son. What have you done?” There was an expression on his face, one that—in the sunlight—was familiar. He was Agos’s father. It stilled me to silence. The day of Agos’s funeral came back to me. There had been no tears on Ozo’s face, only resignation behind the shadow of grief—he had considered the possib
ility of losing his son to this cause long ago, had lived with the knowledge every day since Yeshin had told him what he must do. For Ozo to choose loyalty to my father over his child, to go as far as to love him only from the shadows, unacknowledged…
I slowly let Liosa go. “Look at this,” I said, straightening up and watching her drift towards the edge of the water, mesmerized by the ripples from the wind. “Look at what my father’s scheming has done to all of us. Look at what it did to you.”
“Talyien—”
I went over to retrieve the sword from Peneira’s corpse.
“One thing, Talyien,” he whispered. “One little thing. One last sacrifice, to save many.”
“One life,” I replied. “Mine.”
“It was never yours to begin with,” he said with a crooked smile.
“How is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s not. It’s supposed to make you understand that we are not the masters of our fate.”
“I don’t want to turn into him.” I shoved Yeshin’s sword into his hands. “My son is my only priority now.”
Ozo’s face darkened. “If you don’t think you need him anymore, you’re making a mistake.”
“At least I made it myself.”
He didn’t try to stop me as I went down the path.
CHAPTER SEVEN
THE GATHERING CLOUDS
The shadows of Burbatan latched on to my soul and refused to leave.
Another fallacy of history books, this: the idea that who we are can be reduced to a few words. He was a hero. She was a villain. He was a good man. She was a whore. As if we don’t, at the very least, change a little with every shift of the wind, molding ourselves to what was done to us. The Liosa who would use an infant to lord over both her mother and husband—was she the same Liosa who revelled in storybooks and held my hand with the resolution of someone who trusted that I could never hurt her?
You would think that everything I knew about my father up until that moment would be enough to console me. Of course he used you. The man was a tyrant to all, but especially to his own family. You saw what he did to your grandmother and your mother. You’ve read your brother’s journals. Yeshin saw you as meat to be sold to Yuebek. So what? You knew this before—why the rage now that you know why? Because now I knew it wasn’t from some misguided notion that he had found the better match. My father expected me to marry a monster. He had hoped for it since before I was born, yearned for a little girl child he could sell off. And when he got what he wanted, he molded me, trained me, orchestrated my entire world all so that his will would come to pass, never mind that it came at the expense of my happiness, of my whole life.
I suddenly wanted Yeshin alive again, if only so I could scream at him for what he had done and what he expected me to do. I wanted to laugh at his face, to tell him I’m rejecting all of it—his plans, his madness, his blood. I was done defending him, justifying his actions, pretending he was merely misunderstood and driven by circumstances to become the monster the land knew him to be. I wanted to tell him I hated him.
But anger at a dead man… was worthless. Nothing had changed. Rai still waited for me in the east; Inzali remained in possession of the papers we had signed and sealed, words enough to rescind our joint claim to the throne. But I couldn’t very well go barging back there, to the Oren-yaro and the Zarojo who were waiting to possess me, body and soul—not without an army at my side. It was probably why Ozo was so confident in letting me go. On my own, they could always trap and overpower me. I couldn’t go far without my own army, without guards. I prayed he was wrong in that.
I took the riverside road, intending to follow it all the way to the Sougen. Lord Huan had as much as assured me I had his loyalty. His assistance was my last hope. Not only would he be able to lend me soldiers, but his family had mages working on the dragon-tower and was probably more familiar with the problems in the Sougen than anyone else. They would have a solution better than my father’s. The only question that remained was the price I was willing to pay. Years ago, Lord Huan had travelled to Oren-yaro to ask for my hand in marriage, a sure sign that he was as hungry for the throne as anyone else. He said it was my temperament that caused him to reconsider; I suspected his father, who was loyal to Yeshin’s orders, would have ordered him to call off the courtship before it ever truly began. If I could convince Warlord Ojika, it might still be on the table. The thought filled me with unease, because it would mean I would have to ask Huan to set aside his wife—I, who had ruined far too many lives already. Where my father had embraced the reality that politics meant playing the villain, I still couldn’t accept it. Perhaps the Anyus would agree to barter with other things—with lands, perhaps, or for a few seats in the council. This was the sort of thing Magister Arro was better at.
I could, at least, shed the title of queen when I didn’t have people around to remind me. I didn’t have much coin, save for what little Namra had given me from before Burbatan. I slept in inns without talking to anyone and paid little attention to news from the east. When they asked, I told them I was heading to the Sougen to see my son. It was true enough. By the second or third day, I noticed Zarojo soldiers asking for someone fitting my description, and I avoided the inns altogether. I left the main road and rode through the farmlands instead. It was countryside I knew well, which also made it easier to escape my would-be pursuers than back in the empire.
In Fuyyu, I learned that all the northern roads were barricaded and that none of the riverboats heading to the Sougen were allowed to leave. Kaggawa’s army had conquered most of the towns along the region’s borders, isolating Yu-yan from the rest of the nation.
“Has Dai Kaggawa laid siege to the city?” I asked one of the city guards.
“Not as far as I know,” the guard replied. “But it won’t be long now. Word has it that Warlord Ojika has called for most of his soldiers to retreat to Yu-yan. Kaggawa had a larger army than we anticipated. We don’t even know where his soldiers are coming from.”
“His family has a bit of fortune,” one of the thwarted passengers replied. “Rice farmers. All they do is hoard their money, you know? Pity he’s using it to hurt instead of help our nation.”
“How’s that any different from what the warlords do?” another piped up. “And that queen of ours—”
“Steady now,” the guard said, tapping her spear on the ground. “We don’t want trouble.”
“I’m guessing they’ve seized control of the river.”
“They have. We can’t go north or east. Don’t tell me you’re still trying to get in.”
“I’ve got family there,” I said.
The guard shook her head. “Don’t even dare. I’ve heard of travellers who go in and don’t come back. Kaggawa’s soldiers arrest them on the spot.”
“No word from Shirrokaru on reinforcements?”
“Dragonlord Rayyel is still under arrest, the queen is missing again… it’s safe to say the east is knee-deep in their own shit right now. We’re the forgotten west. Always will be.”
This, I thought to myself as I left the gates and ventured to the marketplace. This is the kingdom Queen Talyien built. This is her legacy.
I took no emotions from the words—I simply digested them as one who had read the details from a book. I wondered what that made me. A hypocrite, probably. No better than the thoughtless people who had birthed me into the world. Well, maybe I ought to share the blame. How was I supposed to learn when they were all I had to learn from?
I felt something on my arm and almost pulled away in irritation. And then I saw a boy staring up at me. I recognized him instantly. “Kisig,” I said.
He smiled, Agos’s eyes peering back at me. It reminded me of the dream I had back in Bara and sent a spasm of grief into my heart. “Hello,” he said, unaware of my trepidation.
“What are you doing here?” I managed.
“We live here.” And then, as if just realizing something, his eyes brightened. “Mama will
want to see you!”
“I’m not sure—” I began.
“We have a barn. I’ll take care of your horse.” Before I could protest, he grabbed the reins from me. I felt like a horse myself as I followed the boy down the street.
Sayu answered the gate as we arrived. I still couldn’t get over her expression every time she laid eyes on me—there was always that glint of dismay, like one you’d get when the stray dog you’ve been feeding just won’t go away. “Kisig… insisted,” I said, by way of greeting.
“He would.” She pressed her lips together, as if to stop herself from saying anything rude. She glanced at her son. A flicker of worry creased her brow. “Is that a horse?”
“She said I could take care of him.” Without really waiting for his mother to agree, Kisig pulled my mount through the gate. He snuffed impatiently behind the boy, eager for treats.
Sayu cleared her throat. “It would be impolite for me not to offer tea, I suppose.”
“It really wouldn’t be. I shouldn’t even be here.”
She gave a small, impatient wave. “General Ozo sent me.”
“When?”
“Back in Bara. He wasn’t sure if you would ride north or south and begged me to keep an eye out for you here.”
“Did he… say anything else?”
She looked at me with confusion.
I sighed. “I asked you to go home, Sayu.”
She shrugged. “This is home. Before Agos took us to Oren-yaro… we spent a year here, when I was pregnant with Teo. Perhaps the happiest year of our life together. When Ozo asked me to go, I was going to say no—but then I realized I didn’t mind.” She spoke as if in a daze, and eventually gestured. I followed her into the building, up a narrow flight of stairs that creaked with our every step and through the first door. Her younger son was in the common room, playing with a ball. “Your brother has found himself a horse,” she said. “How about you go to him, Teo? He’s in the yard. Just don’t get kicked.”
The Dragon of Jin-Sayeng Page 33
